


The Spinning Climate

by stardropdream



Category: xxxHoLic
Genre: CLAMPkink, F/F, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:36:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Come with me,” she says at last. “For now, you may stay with me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Spinning Climate

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to the CLAMP kink meme and then reposted to LJ October 20, 2010.

  
**I.**  
  
The air smells of sea-salt when she arrives to that room, scattered broken glass and broken wooden chairs flurried across the floor.   
  
The scent is heavy as she approaches the _yaobikuni_ , her hair long and covering her long, slim body. Her body is injured, twisted, almost too revolting to look at. But the spider matron does not turn her eyes away from the other woman. There is a single trail of red down the _yaobikuni_ ’s cheek, the dried pathway of the pearl. The spider matron regards her, and the woman stares back up at her, not smiling, but hopeful.  
  
“You came here,” she says, and her voice is not joyful, but so, so quiet and hesitant that it is a wonder that the words even manage past her throat at all.  
  
“Yes,” the spider matron says, her expression neutral. Her arms fold across her chest, and she regards the docile woman on the floor, neither moving away nor attempting to come closer.   
  
The woman looks as if she wishes to speak, but instead the spider matron walks forward, pushing her hair over her shoulder as she kneels down before her, expression still a practiced neutral.   
  
“Come with me,” she says at last. “For now, you may stay with me.”   
  
The woman’s eyes flicker, hold hers, and then she smiles. “Please…”   
  
  
  
**II.**  
  
The _yaobikuni_ does not move most days, just watches the spider matron. She brushes her hair, wild and wavering, over her shoulders, her movements slow as if she is in water. Her eyes are sorrowful, longing, staring after all of the spider matron’s movements. Of course the spider matron is aware, but she does nothing to come closer to that woman.   
  
The spider matron goes about her business most days, the red pearl glowing inside her, giving her that pulse of energy and magic that she so desperately craved. She thinks, most days, of perhaps killing the _yaobikuni_ and eating her flesh—but she does not ever go through with these thoughts. She has more important things to do than deal with something as insignificant as that woman.   
  
Most days, the company the _yaobikuni_ keeps are the children spiders, who scurry across her hands in a way that is almost affectionate.   
  
  
  
**III.**  
  
“Your wounds still have not healed,” the queen of spiders says. “Why?”  
  
The woman blinks at her, almost owlish more than she seems a mermaid. The room is thick with sea salt and unspoken words. She opens her mouth, and then lets it fall shut. She stands, hesitantly, approaches the spider matron.   
  
The queen of spiders raises her eyebrows, but allows for the _yaobikuni_ to kneel beside her, to tentatively reach out and place her wounded, scarred hands across the spider matron’s bare knee. Slowly, the woman lays her head down on her thigh, staring up at her, her mouth parted and her eyes hooded.  
  
The spider matron leans back in her seat, pillows her cheek against her hand, tilted to the side, regarding the other woman. Then, slowly, in a farce of affection, so she thinks, she strokes the _yaobikuni_ ’s hair. She watches the other woman’s eyes fall shut, and her breath come out in flurries.   
  
“Why do you not heal yourself?” the spider matron asks again.   
  
The woman opens her eyes and stares up at the queen of spiders, then stares down at her hands, still so pained in every movement. “I…”  
  
“It’s unnerving to see you leave yourself injured,” the spider matron says, with a disdainful, dismissive sniff.   
  
“I’m—”  
  
“Heal yourself, if that is what you wish. Such things do not disturb me.”   
  
Their gazes meet, and the spider matron gives her a low, sultry smile as she curves away into the darkness, crawls away on the spider strings she houses herself in, and leaves the woman alone.  
  
She watches after the spider queen, her face a strange mixture of sorrow and happiness.   
  
  
  
**IV.**  
  
The spider matron feels the _yaobikuni_ ’s fingers in her hair. She does not push her away, nor does she react, as the woman brushes her hair tenderly, reverently. Her fingers are nimble now, healed. She strokes her fingers through her hair, lingers on her scalp, presses closer to her so that she can hear the other woman breathing.  
  
“I…” the woman begins.  
  
The spider matron turns her head, stares up at her, her lips parted. “Yes?”  
  
“I love you,” the woman says, without shame, staring at her and only her, her fingers still in the waving strands of the spider matron’s hair.  
  
The spider matron does not react, merely tilts her head.   
  
“Of course you do,” the spider matron says at last, after a long moment of only staring up at the woman. Then she lifts her hand, touches the woman’s cheek, draws her down to her mouth, and kisses her.  
  
She tastes of sea-salt and the ocean breeze.   
  
  
  
**V.**  
  
Their bodies press together as if they were made to fit together, naked, flushed, their breathing mirrored.   
  
The _yaobikuni_ strokes her hair, kisses at her neck in such reverence, in such love, in such desire. The spider matron lets the woman map her skin, kiss at her collarbone, over the swell of her breasts, the peaks of her nipples, down the slim line of her belly, mouth falling over the soft skin of her curves, kissing down through slick folds.   
  
The spider matron watches her, cooing out appropriately when the ministrations particularly please her. It is the first time when she feels the warmth in her entire being, to hold the woman close to her, to have those nimble fingers in her hair, to have that mouth for herself and only her.   
  
She strokes the woman’s hair as she continues to kiss at the apex of her legs, stroking with her lips and her tongue, and the spider matron does let out a soft gasp every so often, lets her body shudder.  
  
“I love you,” the _yaobikuni_ whispers to her belly button as she lays worship to the spider matron’s skin.  
  
“Come here,” the queen of spiders commands, wraps her arms around the other woman’s form and pulls her up to her.  
  
She kisses her on the mouth, slants their lips together. The room is heavy with the smell of sex and salt, of fire and water.   
  
“Stay here,” the spider matron says, her hands stroking down the other woman’s body. The other woman looks hesitant, unsure, but the spider matron has made her decision and the _yaobikuni_ is not allowed to reject that. “With me.”   
  
The woman watches her, strokes her fingers over the spider matron’s face and into her hair, drawing her close and kissing her, softly, tenderly.   
  
“Stay here with me always,” the spider matron says again, commanding, knowing her expression is not neutral.  
  
“Yes,” she breathes, nodding, and giving her a watery smile, rippling across her face. “Yes, I will.”


End file.
